


Frangipani

by Ramen (BlushingTeddybear)



Series: Omega Sylvain Week [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, F/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omegaverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushingTeddybear/pseuds/Ramen
Summary: Day 1 : HeatSylvain José Gautier has a secret.Well, everyone has one or two of them. Some have even more. Sylvain can count his with the fingers of one hand, but one sure thing is that he is determined to take all of them with him to the grave.Mercedes helps Sylvain manage his heat and he reciprocates. This is O/O and there is no penetration.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz
Series: Omega Sylvain Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706659
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57
Collections: Omega Sylvain Week





	Frangipani

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Day 1 of the Omega Sylvain Week, which prompt was Heat.  
> I intend to add some worldbuilding in the end notes of each entry since my omegaverse is slightly different from the common conception of it, in particular when it comes to bonding and mates.  
> This fic is illustrated by the amazing Polochon (@pillow_gal on Twitter)! Please check her out if you can!

Sylvain José Gautier has a secret.

Well, everyone has one or two of them. Some have even more. Sylvain can count his with the fingers of one hand, but one sure thing is that he is determined to take all of them with him to the grave. People didn’t need to know, it would only attract more problems and life was already hard on its own, he didn’t need the extra spice. And thus he stays careful, conceals what could give him away and diverts people’s attention away from the truth.

He was doing great, really. But in the excitement of leaving the Gautier estate for _a whole year_ , Sylvain had forgotten one thing, and that was shared dorms. It dawns on him at first a few days after their arrival at the monastery, as he accompanies Felix and His Highness back from the cathedral. Felix disappears into his bedroom first, claiming he’s tired when actually he’s just in a bad mood because of choir practice. He’s never liked singing, though he does enjoy listening. Sylvain exchanges a few more words with Dimitri, Dimitri scolds Sylvain a bit, and they both tell good night to each other before Dimitri closes the door behind him. As he reaches for the knob of his own room, Sylvain pauses, his eyes fixed on the stones on his right. A single wall separates them, the alpha prince and him, and Sylvain wonders with a tinge of dread sitting in his throat if it’s thick enough to contain his secrets.

Sylvain doesn’t tell any teachers, not even the head advisor. They do not need to know and concern themselves with something that is none of their business. And even if he does tell them for safety or whatever, there is nothing they can do about it or the raging storm his father becomes when angered. Sylvain stays silent, flirts around and pretends he does not feel his heart tighten when His Highness, or Hilda, or Seteth look at him too intensely. He counts the days in his head, keeps a mental note of how much Gautier blend is left in the iron tin tucked away in the bottom drawer of his desk after he’s brewed his evening infusion. There is really nothing he can do against the passing of time, each day bringing him closer to misery. He’s been looking for a place to hide himself, scurrying eyes and aimless wandering easily concealed by a wink and his arm around a shoulder. He doesn’t find anywhere good enough, _safe_ enough, and almost resigns himself to go camping in the wood for a week when Mercedes’ heat arrives.

Mercedes, she’s a sweet and kind soul. The kind to express her faith through helping others instead of hunting down anyone who might disagree with her beliefs. She has this nurturing and motherly air around her, a perfect stereotypical example of an omega so it doesn’t surprise Sylvain that much when Byleth informs the whole class she won’t be able to attend the whole week. No, what strikes him isn’t the fact that she _is_ an omega, it’s the fact that she allows everyone to know it. She’s not cut for battle, for conflict, she wouldn’t be able to defend herself. Hell, the student with the most brute strength in the whole monastery is in their house and he’s an _alpha_. Sylvain would trust Dimitri with his life, but certainly not with a heat. He worries, and with perhaps a misplaced sense of duty, he skips his chores to lightly knock at her door.

She doesn’t make him wait for long and that is an exploit in itself, giving the state she’s in. Her heat makes her look feverish, labored breath and lidded eyes adding to her flushed face, and neck, and shoulders, and- _Goddess_ , she really doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation, does she? Sylvain doesn’t linger at her door longer than needed, he invites himself in, keeps Mercedes steady when she staggers back to her bed. She doesn’t ask why he’s here and were Sylvain a bad man, as ruthless with the people close to him as he is with whatever poor girl he finds on the streets, she’d be in danger. But he actually likes Mercedes a whole lot and if there is something he can do to ease her pain, then he’ll do it by all means. He sheds his shirt and gives it to her so she has somewhere to bury her nose, a comforting scent to bask in as he embraces her, his chest pressed to her back. He strokes her silky hair to ground her and ease the lightheadedness, keeps his mouth closed against her nape to provide the lightest relief, and lets her move as she wants against him, neglecting on purpose the excitement growing inside of him.

He has to leave in the early morning if he doesn’t want anyone to suspect anything, but doesn’t fail to return to her side after all of his obligations were tended to. They spend another night together, finding comfort in each other’s scent and Mercedes taking the relief she desperately needs, then Sylvain slips out to hit the baths and scrub the sweet smell of frangipani off his skin before classes start. The same thing happens the day after, and the day after that, again and again until Mercedes’ heat wears off like a bad dream at dawn. Sylvain has asked her to keep his visits to herself, arguing that Ingrid would have his head on a pique in the middle of the market place if she knew, and in all her kindness, Mercedes has agreed to not talk about it, not even to Annette.

Only a few days have passed since then and Sylvain wakes up on a beautiful morning with a familiar yet awful wetness between his legs. He feels a single drop roll on the inside of his thigh, like syrup on Ingrid’s favorite pancakes, and jolts up, his eyes fixing the wall separating him from Dimitri. It is still early, His Highness must still be sleeping as well as the others. Urgency settles in his guts as he imagines what would happen if they came to notice, if they could smell his secret like wolves smell fear and blood in their preys. Sylvain scrambles off his bed, grabs a shirt, a pair of pants and his boots with shaky hands, and gets out of his room. He hurries down the corridor, the distant singing of early birds covering the faint sound of his footsteps, and it’s once he’s out of the building that he realizes, facing the vastness of the monastery’s grounds, that nowhere’s safe. His feet keep going forward whilst he is racking his brains, trying to remember where were the stairs with the least traffic or which abandoned classroom he could hide in.

With each step he takes, another possibility is discarded because there is just so many people in the Academy, students, teachers, knights and monks crowding the place up to every remoted corner, yet Sylvain cannot give in. He has to find a solution, anything, anywhere without anyone to witness his misery. His fever is already cutting his breath short, he won’t have time to run across the whole place before the others get up. An idea pops up in his head, almost like a fever dream, a delirious last resort, and he makes his way to the commoners dorms, hasting his steps because he knows he doesn’t have that much time left.

He thought Mercedes would be a sleep-in kind of girl so it really surprises him when she opens her door a second after he’s knocked on it. By the look on her face, Sylvain guesses she must be as puzzled to see him on her doorstep, but thank Sothis, she lets him in without any question asked, just like the first time he went to visit her. He’s burning hot and out of breath, both from his hormone-induced fever as well as the short run he’s just made. Mercedes, bless her heart, waits for him to recollect himself, concern knitting her pretty eyebrows together as she pats his back. She only speaks once he seems to be functional again.

“Sylvain, are you alright? Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Mercedes, my beautiful angel,” he manages to say with a crooked grin, “please let me stay here for today.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes, she must have already guessed why he’s here, she probably has smelled it when she opened her door despite being an omega herself. He has been told in the past his scent was quite intense, and that has been an excuse for his father to lock him up in his room every month, leaving him at the mercy of an agonizing torture, alone to face a tremendous storm.

“Are you being pursued by a girl again? You usually go to Dimitri for that, don’t you?”

Sylvain chuckles at the question because even though he is inches from dying inside, she hasn’t picked a single clue of what is happening to him and that is so endearing and adorable, he could kiss her right now. 

“Not a girl this time, but thank you for thinking I’m popular with the ladies,” he finally brings himself to look up and stare right into her eyes with utmost sincerity. “I need your help and you’re the only one I can trust right now.”

“Wha-” She starts, then stops. He slips a hand in his hair, swipes his bangs damp with sweat away from his eyes whilst she gauges him. She notices his trembling hands, the red flush down to his chest and it seems it clicked in her head when she sniffs the air around him.

“I didn’t know you were-”

“Nobody does, not even Teach or Seteth. I need your help, Mercedes.”

Her usual, soft smile returns to her lips and Sylvain instantly feels a weigh off his chest, he can breathe again.

They decide Mercedes will go to class as usual then bring him some food and comfort, leave him again to do her chores and finally after that come back to her room and spend the night holding him. They haven’t discussed about what she should say to Byleth about his absence, or what excuse she could give to Dimitri and the others because of course they will worry. But they will also not nag him too much if he says he’s been fooling around for a week straight. They might call him insatiable and irresponsible, though, nothing he’s never heard before.

Waiting for Mercedes all day is a torture, Sylvain has to wrestle against an inferno of carnal desire, his hands not nearly enough to ease the ache inside of him. It’s not the first time he’s gone through this, he tells himself he will be alright, he will survive even if he goes against the primal urge roaring inside of him, he will get over it the same way Mercedes did when he took care of her.

Her hands are cold and it’s all Sylvain’s ever needed. They cool him down, offer a moment of respite against the elements and he leans into her touch, kisses the palm of them with the reverence she saves for the Goddess. He finds comfort in her sweet scent, the frangipani soothing his nerves like a spring rain relax his mind and he can never get enough of it as he nuzzles her neck, buries his nose in the crook of her shoulder where the scent is the most prominent. Citrus and frangipani mingle together, fill the room in a delicious harmony and it truly feels like home. Their agreement goes both way and Mercedes doesn’t touch him save for stroking his head and massaging his scalp. He does the moving, he uses the body she willingly offers him to chase relief, and she only moves her fingers when he guides her hand where he needs it and begs for her assistance.

She is comfortably leaning against her pillows and he’s on her lap, grinding against her thigh as she works him open, the fingers of one hand deep inside him as the others tease his rim. She leaves peppering kisses along his collarbone, down his chest, catches a nipple between her lips and rolls it against her tongue. Sylvain terribly wants to keep his voice in, to not surrender any further to the hunger growling inside of him, but Mercedes’ hands leave him no room to breathe and he has to keep his mouth open, panting heavily above her, all the sounds he’s ever swallowed spilling out of his throat in spite of everything.

“You’re doing great, Sylvain, you’re doing perfect,” she murmurs, purrs into his ear and he melts, his fingers dig into her shoulders and his back arches as he finally, _finally_ , clenches around her fingers, paints her stomach white. He has an instant of respite, the fire inside him momentarily put down to a simmer, and he buries his face into Mercedes’ hair to fill his lungs with frangipani. She’s slowly, lovingly stroking his back, dragging her nails along the line of his spine and earning a delicious shiver from him.

“Are you better now?” she asks and Sylvain doesn’t have any energy left to answer with anything coherent so he just hums and hopes the message gets through. Her giggle is soft, genuine, it fills his heart with so much love it might just burst open and spill everywhere. It wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks as he lets himself be cradled in Mercedes’ arms, warm and safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Why does Sylvain try so hard to conceal his dynamic, you ask?  
> Mostly because he doesn't want any creep to get the wrong idea and try to breed him. This is also why he uses the "Gautier blend" which is basically a contraceptive and an inhibitor.  
> Why would his dad get angry if people knew about it?  
> Omegas are more prone to bond, if only because having a mate relieve them of overwhelming heats. However, someone bonded will only react to their partner, and that drastically reduce the chance to get pregnant outside of the bond. Nobility favors Alpha/Omega marriages because they have the highest fertility rate without the need of a bond. If Sylvain were to bond with someone, he wouldn't be able to be used as a "studhorse" like his father intended to.
> 
> You can find me on Twitter @sylvgautier for more Sylvain content (NSFW)


End file.
